You Are at the Top of My Lungs
by rachhudson
Summary: Quinn Fabray is always the bridesmaid, never the bride. Maybe it's because she's just too nice to say no, or maybe it's because she just loves weddings. Loose take on 27 Dresses; completely AU.
1. the story of a girl

**Hi! I'm shaking things up a little, in light of all the Finchel I've been writing, and this is my new project: an AU Quick multi chapter story loosely based on 27 Dresses! I really hope you like it (:**

**Official summary: **Quinn Fabray is always the bridesmaid, never the bride. Maybe it's because she's just too nice to say no, or maybe it's because she just loves weddings. Suddenly, she meets bad boy journalist Noah Puckerman, who quickly becomes the thorn in her side she can't seem to get rid of. She is helping her best friend plan her wedding. And she has to watch her former roommate woo the man she's in love with. Quinn has to learn that in life, sometimes you have to stand up for yourself, and you might just find what you didn't even know you were looking for along the way. **  
><strong>

* * *

><p><em>chapter one: the story of a girl<br>_

For as long as she can remember, Quinn Fabray has loved weddings. There's just something beautiful about two people coming together to proclaim their love and pledge themselves to each other.

The first time she's asked to be a bridesmaid, she's fourteen, and her cousin desperately needs a fourth bridesmaid, so she recruits Quinn. As she stands up at the front, clutching a bouquet, she hears the music start to play, but instead of watching her cousin, she looks back at the man she's marrying instead.

The look on his face says it all: How nervous he is, how excited he is, and, most importantly, how much he loves the woman walking down the aisle. That's the moment that Quinn Fabray falls in love with weddings. If she could just see people looking that happy every day for the rest of her life, she knows she'd be the happiest person alive.

She starts to believe in happy endings that day.

* * *

><p>"Quinn!" Rachel squeals, practically ambushing her as she gets in the elevator.<p>

Quinn sighs. It's really too early for Rachel to be enthused, but Rachel is _always _enthused, no matter the time of day. She plasters a grin on her face. "What's up, Rach?"

She and Rachel have been friends since college, and somehow they both ended up working at the same company. She guesses she could say Rachel is her best friend. She had a different best friend once, but she hasn't heard from her in years, not since Quinn stayed in New York and Santana moved to France.

"Finn proposed!" Rachel sticks her hand in Quinn's face, jumping up and down.

"Rachel, hold still so I can see the ring," Quinn laughs, grasping her friend's hand. Rachel stills, but she's still shifting from foot to foot. "It's beautiful," Quinn says softly, and it really is. She knows Rachel and Finn have been dating since high school – since before Quinn even knew her – and she's honestly surprised it took him so long to pop the question. "I'm really happy for you," Quinn says.

Rachel hugs her. "You'll be maid of honor, won't you?" She looks at her with wide eyes.

Quinn smiles. "Of course." Because, not to toot her own horn or anything, but if there's one thing Quinn Fabray's good at, it's being a bridesmaid.

Rachel hugs her again. "We're thinking we'll get married in a few months. A nice summer wedding."

Quinn nods. "Sounds beautiful."

"It was _so _romantic, Quinn," Rachel says, and the doors of the elevator open. Quinn listens as Rachel describes Finn's proposal on the way to Quinn's office, and she can't help the pang in her chest. She's not jealous of Rachel, exactly. She just wants to find what Rachel's found.

As they pass reception, the girl behind the desk waves. "Have you picked up the bridesmaid dresses yet?" she asks.

Quinn smiles. "I'll be right on it after work, Tina. I'll make sure to bring them tomorrow."

Tina grins.

"I can't believe we got roped in to being bridesmaids," Rachel hisses as they continue to Quinn's office.

"_I_ volunteered," Quinn reminds her.

"And then you roped me in."

"Finn gets to see you in a pretty dress."

She nods appreciatively. "This is true. But what number wedding is this for you this year? Five? Six?"

Quinn rolls her eyes. "You make me sound like a serial bride. I'm just being a good friend – being a bridesmaid."

Rachel laughs.

"I just like weddings, okay?" Quinn says defensively.

"Oh, I know," Rachel says lightly. She picks up the paper Quinn discarded on her desk. "Already scan the commitments section?"

"Don't know what you're talking about," Quinn mutters, pretending to reorganize her desk.

"Oh, _come on_," Rachel says. "Everyone knows you take all the articles that Noah Puckerman writes and put them in your little scrapbook."

"He's just a word smith, okay?" Quinn says exasperatedly. "He just… He writes the most beautiful things. Is it a _crime _to think that his words are beautiful?"

Rachel shakes her head, but she's suppressing giggles. "You're just saving ideas for your dream wedding to Sam," she teases.

Quinn looks fearfully at her open door. "_Shut up_," she hisses. "People can _hear _you."

"Everyone knows," Rachel sings.

"Oh, God," Quinn moans, putting her head in her hands.

"Quinn?"

She looks up to see none other than Sam Evans standing in the doorway, his blonde hair sticking up in the back in that messy but adorable way.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" He looks pointedly at Rachel.

"Oh, um, I'll just… I'll go." She shoots Quinn a look on her way out, and she desperately hopes Sam doesn't see it.

Oh, yeah, by the way, she's completely, heed-over-heels, madly in love with Sam. Who also happens to be her boss.

She knows her life is screwed up, okay? She knows. The fact of the matter is, she started working for Sam right as his company was taking off about three years ago. She was straight out of college, and he offered her a job as his personal assistant. She's been here ever since.

She couldn't leave even if she wanted to, though. It's like she has to see him every day, has to be near him. She's in far too deep, and Rachel reminds her every day.

"I was wondering if you could call Jake for me later, see what he thinks about that new kayak line we were thinking about launching?" Sam looks at her earnestly.

She nods. "Of course. I will be sure to get right on that."

He smiles. Her heart flips over in her chest.

"Great," he says. "Thank you so much, Quinn. You're the best." He leaves then, and she looks down at the floor, smiling softly.

It's sad, she knows, but she lives for the little moments like this one.

* * *

><p>Tina's puking in the bathroom. Mercedes, Tina's maid of honor, looks helplessly at Quinn, and Quinn sighs, knocking lightly on the door.<p>

"Tina?" she calls softly. "Can I come in?"

She hears more retching in reply.

She opens the door to see Tina, her hair all done up intricately and her dress pooling around her, kneeling over the toilet.

"I c-can't do it," she says exasperatedly. "I'm a mess, Mike won't even want to marry me any more, I'll be an awful wife."

"Hey," Quinn says softly, kneeling down next to her. She pats Tina gently on the back. "Mike _loves _you, Tina. _Of course _he wants to marry you."

"You really think so?" Tina whispers, taking a piece of toilet paper and wiping at the corners of her mouth.

Quinn nods. "I know so, Tina. I've seen the way he looks at you – like you're the only girl in the world." She smiles at her, and Tina smiles hesitantly back. "And when you walk down that aisle, you are going to take his breath away. He's going to realize that he's marrying the most perfect woman, and he's going to wonder how he got so lucky."

Tina's eyes begin to water, and she dabs at them, trying to keep her mascara from running. "Thanks, Quinn," she whispers. "You're a good friend."

Quinn smiles. "C'mon," she says, helping Tina stand up. "Let's get your makeup retouched, okay?"

Tina nods. "Okay."

Quinn gives her shoulder a little squeeze.

If she hadn't gotten her job, she probably would have been a wedding planner. She could _totally _pull it off.

"Nice one," Rachel breathes after Quinn and Tina come out of the bathroom.

Quinn shrugs. "She just needed some reassurance, that's all."

"You're really good at that," Rachel says quietly. "At making people feel better."

"Thanks," Quinn replies.

"You know you'll have to calm me down at my wedding, don't you?" Rachel asks, laughing. "I'll be a wreck for sure."

"I'll be there," Quinn promises, but she's laughing, too.

She knows she's really good at being a bridesmaid, but part of her wonders if that means she'll never get the chance to be the bride.

* * *

><p>"And, of course, I have to thank the lovely Quinn Fabray, because, without her, this wedding literally would not have been possible."<p>

Quinn ducks her head, doing her best to look modest. The guests at the reception all clap politely, and she nods at a few of them, but honestly, this part always makes her feel awkward. She kind of wants to be the silent support system. She doesn't need credit for making someone's wedding day a happy affair. They could do it without her, anyway.

"Okay!" Tina announces. "All the single ladies to the center of the floor. Time to throw the bouquet!"

Rachel nudges her, beaming. "This is your time, Quinnie," she says. "I can feel it. And I'll have my fingers crossed for you!"

Quinn laughs. "We'll see."

She has this weird superstition when it comes to the bouquet. Every wedding she's been to – and, let's face it, that's several – the girl who catches the bouquet gets married within a year. Every time. She just knows that if she can catch it, one time, suddenly everything will fall into place: Sam will realize his true feelings for her, and one day they'll get married and ride off into the sunset.

She heads to the direct center of the dance floor. She figures it's her best bet.

"Okay," Tina says slowly, turning around. "Three… two… one!"

The bouquet flies through the air. Quinn stretches her arms out. It's heading right toward her. She can see it and her fingers are almost there – she's _so _close – and then _BOOM_.

Everything goes black.

* * *

><p>"Hey, can you hear me?"<p>

Her brain is foggy and the voice is echoing inside her eardrums. Her eyes flutter open. A man is leaning over her, and he smiles when she opens her eyes. He has these bright hazel eyes and a Mohawk.

She struggles to sit up.

"Whoa, whoa, hey," he says quickly. "Slow down there. How you feeling?"

She stares at him for a second. "Your hair is stupid," she says slowly.

He chuckles. "I think you have a concussion."

She blinks. "What – what happened?"

"The hefty one over there" – he gestures to a heavy set woman in probably her late twenties – "knocked you flat out in the quest for the bouquet."

She groans. "That's so _embarrassing_."

"Actually, it was kind of hilarious," he says, laughing.

She glares at him.

"I'm Puck," he says, offering her his hand.

She slowly takes it. "Quinn."

"Here, Quinn, let me help you up." He grabs her arm, but she yanks it away.

"I can do it myself, thank you," she snaps, glaring at him. She hoists herself up, but she immediately stumbles, her head spinning.

"Whoa, whoa," Puck says, grabbing her arm. "Slow down there, Princess."

She tries to glare at him again but her vision is still swimming.

"Here, let's get you home," he mutters.

"Rachel… Rachel can take me," she manages to get out. She spins around to scan the floor. Rachel is dancing with a tall, dark-haired guy. Well, more like Rachel's dancing and he's trying not to step on her feet. She knows it's Finn, her fiancé.

She sighs. "Or not," she mutters. "Some best friend."

Puck follows her line of vision. "She was worried, you know, but I told her I could handle it."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Of course you did."

"Here, let me take you home."

"I can take myself!" she says defiantly, wrenching her arm from his grasp.

He bites back a laugh. "No, you really can't. Just… come outside and I'll call a cab for us."

She sighs, but she lets him help her outside. He signals a cab, helping her in, and then, to her surprise, he climbs in after her.

"What do you think you're doing?" she hisses.

"Making sure you get home safely," he tells her.

"Where to?" the cabbie asks.

Puck looks at Quinn expectantly. "3672 West 8th Avenue." The cabbie nods, and she turns to Puck. "You better not be some creepy stalker."

"Never," he vows.

She rolls her eyes, digging out her purse and bringing out a small planner. She opens it to the date, glancing over her list. _Get hair done_. Check. She crosses it off. _Help set up wedding_. Check. Another line goes on the paper.

She feels eyes on her, and she looks up to see Puck staring at her, an odd expression on his face.

"What?" she snaps.

"Are you… is that a _to do _list?"

She glares at him. "Is it a _crime_ to be organized? Just because you've probably never had anything to plan besides who you're going to get into your bed each night—"

"You really think I'm just some sort of manwhore?" he asks, eyebrow cocked.

"Well, are you saying you're not?" she asks.

"No, no, I am," he says. Before she has time to react, he grabs her planner, scanning it.

"Hey!" she shrieks.

"This is _not _a normal to do list," he says. "Normal people's lists say 'pick up dry cleaning' or 'go to the store.' Not 'plan flower arrangement' and… '_compare color pallets with R_'?" He stares at her in disbelief. "What kind of sick freak are you?"

"Give that back," she tells him, making a desperate snatch for the notebook.

He holds it just out of her reach, flipping through the pages. "Holy _shit_," he breathes. "How many weddings have you been in?"

"I just… I have a lot of friends," she says defensively, still reaching for the planner. "Now will you please give me my book back?"

"This is your third wedding this _month_," he says in disbelief.

She finally stretches her arm enough to get the book from his grasp, but she falls into his lap in the process.

He smirks down at her. "You know, if you wanted to sit in my lap, all you had to do was ask."

She rolls her eyes, sitting up. "You're disgusting," she scoffs.

The cab comes to a halt. "Finally," Quinn mutters, rifling through her handbag. "Now what did I do with my wallet?"

"I got it," Puck says quickly, passing a few bills up to the cabbie.

"Thanks," Quinn says acidly, opening her door. "For everything. Really." She slams it shut, stalking up to her apartment building.

"Wait!" She turns around to see Puck clamoring out of the cab, hand rubbing his Mohawk. "You need me to see you up? I mean, you might have a concussion."

She narrows her eyes. "Do you honestly think that you're going to get into my pants?"

"What, can't a guy make sure a girl's alright?"

She stares at him. "I'm not some bimbo, concussion or not. I have _standards. _Good night, _Puck_."

"I didn't even say anything offensive!" She rolls her eyes, walking up the stairs to her apartment complex. She hears him sigh, and then she hears, "Good night, Quinn Fabray! I'll be seeing you soon!"

She rolls her eyes again as she enters the building. She certainly hopes she never sees that _asshole _again.

* * *

><p>She's just settled down with the evening paper and a mug of hot tea, ready to read the commitments section and then sleep off her <em>horrible <em>headache, when her phone buzzes on the table. She picks it up and is surprised to see that she has two new messages.

The first one is from Rachel, wanting to make sure she's alright. She types back a standard, "Yeah, I'm fine" and adds she'll have to tell her about the creep who took her home later. After she sends that, she looks at her second message.

_Hey, girl, back in town next week, need a place a stay. It could be just like old times! See you next week. xoxo, Santana_

She gapes at the screen. Her old college roommate is coming back into town? She hasn't seen her in _years_.

And when Santana comes into town, it always means trouble.

She should just say no – she should just tell Santana that she can't stay with her, and that she just has too much stuff going on right now.

But she's Quinn, and she's too nice to everyone, so she types out, _Sure! See you then_.

She puts the phone down and sighs, leaning back into the couch.

Starting next week, her life is going to be hell.

* * *

><p><strong>Pretty please review? :D<strong>


	2. not that girl

**Thank you so much for the feedback so far! I really hope you like the next chapter.**

* * *

><p><em>chapter two: not that girl<em>

"How's the wedding business coming?"

Puck glares at Blaine, who's smirking.

"Fuck off," he spits.

"Not so good?" Blaine asks.

"I'm gonna get out of this department soon," Puck vows. "It's only a matter of time before I'm promoted, and I can write about something worthwhile, not shitty flower displays and bridesmaid gowns." He sighs. "I just need to get the right story."

"Why do you want out so badly?" asks Artie, the other guy in the cubicle.

Puck stares at him incredulously. "If you had to cover _weddings _for a living, you'd want to kill yourself, too," he informs him.

Artie shrugs. "Seems like a great way to meet ladies, if you ask me."

Puck scoffs. "I don't need any help in that department."

"They just want to sleep with you so you'll cover their wedding," Blaine remarks drily.

"First of all, you're just jealous because you don't like girls, so you wouldn't get the appeal of that," Puck says shortly, "and secondly, that only happened twice."

"But it worked, didn't it?"

Puck smirks. "Okay, so there are _some _perks to the job. Not enough, though. I want to be taken _seriously _as a journalist, and writing about how to plan a wedding on a budget? Not cutting it."

Artie shakes his head.

"Talk to Emma about it, then," Blaine says offhandedly. "She's the editor. You wanna move up? You have to convince _her_."

Puck nods. "I know. And I think I have a lead on a story that'll help her see that I need out of this goddamn section."

"What, the overpricing of caterers?" Blaine teases.

Puck smirks. "Better. Do you know how many times the average girl has been a bridesmaid?"

* * *

><p>"Hey, Quinn, party at McKinley's later tonight," Mercedes says in passing as Quinn heads over to reception. "Celebrating the deal with Nike you and Sam just pulled off for us. Be there, alright? I'll buy you a martini."<p>

"Make it a strawberry daiquiri and it's a deal," Quinn says.

Mercedes laughs.

"Oh thank _God_," Rachel breathes when Quinn reaches the desk. "I don't know how Tina does this every day, honestly. I'm supposed to tell you…" She glances down at the various pieces of paper she has spread across the desk, writing scribbled on almost all of them. "Aha!" she shouts in triumph, brandishing one of them. "I'm supposed to tell you to call Nick and negotiate with him on the prices of the kayaks."

Quinn nods, trying not to laugh.

"What?" Rachel asks.

"Remind me why you decided to leave PR for a week to help out at reception?"

Rachel sighs. "Tina asked me to be her temporary replacement while she went on her honeymoon with Mike, and I very well couldn't say no! I mean, I was just in her _wedding_. I would look like an _awful _friend."

Quinn's lips turn up slightly. "Are you going to that party after work?"

Rachel nods. "I managed to convince Finn to go with me."

"Wait, I just found out about this party five minutes ago – how did you already see if Finn wanted to go?"

"He called me," Rachel says. "He wanted to see how my first day of reception work was going."

Quinn rolls her eyes. Sometimes, Rachel's relationship with Finn was sickeningly cute. Sure, Quinn wanted her own romance, but not one like that, exactly.

"Oh," Quinn says suddenly. "Before I go to that party, I have to pick up Santana from the airport, and I was wondering if you could come with me."

Rachel looks at her incredulously. "Santana hates me."

Quinn waves that aside. "That was college."

Rachel purses her lips. "She tried to seduce Finn and convince him to cheat on me, then got mad at _me_ when he refused."

Quinn sighs. "Look, I know she's not the best friend in the world—"

"She's not even my friend!"

"—but as _my _best friend, could you please come with me?" She pouts. "Please?"

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Oh, fine. But you owe me!"

"Thank you!" Quinn says. "Thank you, really, Rachel, _thank_ _you_. You are the most wonderful person I have ever had the pleasure of meeting."

"Yeah, yeah," Rachel mumbles, but she smiles a bit. She's a sucker for flattery, Quinn knows. The phone rings on Rachel's desk then, and she sighs.

Quinn mouths "talk to you later" as Rachel answers with, "Evans Outdoor Adventures, this is Rachel, how may I help you?" She heads back to her office.

She passes Sam's office on the way, and she glances in. He's at his desk, looking through some papers. Almost as if he can sense her, he looks up, giving her an adorable half smile.

She smiles back, ducking her head as she heads back into her office.

She doesn't stop smiling for the rest of the day.

* * *

><p>Santana hasn't changed a bit.<p>

Quinn recognizes her as soon as she struts through the terminal, large sunglasses covering half of her face, wheeling her suitcase behind her. She smirks.

Rachel sighs. "The Queen Bitch has landed."

"Be nice," Quinn hisses.

"I will if she does," Rachel grumbles.

"Quinn!" Santana opens her arms, engulfing Quinn in a hug. "God, it's been _forever_. And my flight was a fucking _nightmare_, honestly, this goddamn baby wouldn't shut up, cried the whole plane ride." She pulls away, sweeping back her bangs. She surveys Rachel. "Dwarf," she acknowledges.

"Ice queen," Rachel says coolly. "Kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"Okay," Quinn says quickly. "How about we just go?"

"How's Finnocence?" Santana asks, ignoring Quinn.

"Fine," Rachel says stiffly. "We're engaged, actually."

"So he's not gay?" Santana asks.

Rachel grits her teeth.

Quinn sighs. This is going to be the most difficult few weeks of her life, she can feel it.

How long is Santana staying again?

* * *

><p>"So, your room is over there," Quinn says, gesturing across the hallway to the room next to the bathroom.<p>

Santana nods slowly. "Thanks," she says curtly. "For, you know, letting me stay."

"Of course," Quinn says quickly. "I mean, you're still one of my best friends, Santana."

Santana nods again. "You're still… I mean, we… You're still like my sister, alright?"

Quinn grins a little bit. Then a sudden thought hits her. "Hey, I'm going out to this party tonight, for work, if you want to come," she says offhandedly.

Santana scoffs. "A _work party_? Sounds lame."

Quinn brushes it off. She's used to Santana's insults by now.

"Well," Santana sighs. "I guess I really don't have anything better to do, though, so I'll come to your dumb party."

Quinn resists the urge to roll her eyes. "You don't have to, you know. It was just a suggestion."

"Whatever, I'm going," Santana tells her. "It's either that or stay here and watch Skinemax."

Quinn chokes a little bit. She's about to say that she doesn't even _get _Skinemax, but Santana has already picked up her purse.

"Well?" she asks, turning back to Quinn. "Are we heading out or not?"

Quinn nods mutely. Looks like she's bringing Santana Lopez to her party.

She prays that nothing goes wrong, because when Santana's around, things like that tend to happen.

* * *

><p>Quinn knows she's not a bad looking girl, but she doesn't realize what it's really like to have every eye on you until she walks into McKinley's with Santana. Literally every guy (and even a few girls) are looking in their direction. It makes her feel a little uncomfortable, but Santana soaks it all in, smirking.<p>

"Where to, Quinnie Bee?"

Quinn looks around until she spots Rachel and Finn in a corner. "Over there, I guess."

Santana's smirk fades. "I'll meet you over there, Q. I'm gonna hit up the bar first." She winks at a muscular guy sitting at the bar already, and Quinn sighs. She turns and heads over to Rachel and Finn.

"You brought _her_?" Rachel hisses as soon as Quinn reaches them.

"I couldn't just leave her!" Quinn says defensively. "She's my _guest_."

"She better stay away from Finn," Rachel says, gripping her fiancé's arm tightly.

"Rach, you know I'm not interested in her," Finn says, his voice low, but Rachel just glares at him.

"It's not you I'm worried about," she clarifies. "It's _her_."

"Would it help if I told you she looks so completely not hot compared to you tonight?"

Quinn fights the urge to roll her eyes as Rachel giggles, kissing Finn lightly and replying, "Maybe."

"I'm going to go see if Santana needs help with the drinks," she says firmly.

Finn and Rachel don't even acknowledge that she's there, still stealing kisses. Figures.

She looks around casually as she heads back to the bar, telling herself that she's not looking for anyone in particular but honestly? She's looking for Sam. She hasn't seen him all night, which is weird.

Then she spots him. And her heart stops.

He's laughing and talking with a brunette at the bar. And it's not just _any _brunette: It's Santana.

She freezes feet from them.

Santana manages to stop flirting for two seconds to glance in her direction. "Quinn!" she calls. "C'mere!"

Somehow, Quinn manages to unroot her feet and take the few remaining steps forward.

"How come you never told me your boss is smokin'?" Santana asks, but she's not looking at Quinn. She's looking at Sam, looking at him like he's piece of meat.

He ducks his head, but he's smiling.

She thinks she might be sick.

"Uh," she stutters, "I guess I just… didn't think of him in, y'know, that way." Lie. She can taste in on her tongue.

Santana smiles, that devious smile that lets Quinn know she's up to something, and she leans over, running her fingers up Sam's arm. "Wanna get outta here?" she asks.

Quinn fights the urge to scream. Or cry. Or both. Why is this happening?

"Uh, this is kind of a party for me," Sam says hesitantly, glancing over at Quinn. "And Quinn. Amazing job, by the way."

"Thank you," Quinn says quietly, but he doesn't hear her.

Santana asks, "So?"

Quinn expects Sam to stay firm, to say he's sorry but he really should stay, but, to her dismay, he shrugs and says, "Alright, you know what? Yeah. Let's go. I can take you out, show you around town. You said you were new, right?"

Santana nods. "_So _new."

"She's not that new," Quinn blurts out.

They both look at her.

"I mean, um, we used to come here when we were in college."

"And I moved to France," Santana says slowly. She turns back to Sam. "It's been a while, I could use a refresher course."

"Then let's go," Sam agrees, helping Santana up.

He glances at Quinn once more. "Enjoy the party, Quinn. You deserve it."

She nods meekly, and then she watches the girl who used to be her best friend leave the bar with the guy she's in love with. She can't move.

It hurts too much.

"Quinn?" She hears Rachel's voice, but it sounds far away. "Are you okay?"

She shakes her head. "I just… I need to go home."

"Are you sick?" Rachel asks worriedly.

Quinn nods. She _does _feel sick.

"Need me to take you home?" It's Finn this time.

She shakes her head again. "Nah, you guys stay. Enjoy the party, okay?" And before she can hear their response, she takes off out the door.

Only when she's outside in the cool night air does she let herself cry.

* * *

><p>She struggles out of the cab, her bag catching on the door as she exits. She sighs, tugging it loose and slamming the door shut.<p>

"Need some help?"

She looks up and narrows her eyes. Somehow, her shitty night has just gotten worse. "What are _you_ doing here?" she snaps.

"Whoa, no need to be so _hostile_," Puck says, coming down the steps of her apartment building.

"What, are you stalking me now?" she asks him, crossing her arms.

"Nah, just remembered where you lived and I wanted to talk to you," he says nonchalantly.

She rolls her eyes. "Sorry, Puck, but now's not the best time."

"Why? What happened?"

She sighs, pushing past him. "Just a shitty night, alright?" She ascends the stairs, taking them two at a time.

"When can I come back?" he calls after her.

"Don't," she replies curtly before slamming the door behind her.

Why is he so interested in her? He just took her home after a mishap at a wedding – how does that give him the right to come bother her at her apartment whenever he pleases?

She heads up to her apartment, about to lock the door behind her when she remembers she should leave it unlocked for Santana. Who is out with Sam. The guy she's in love with.

Tears burn her eyes, and she glances over at the clock. 10:46. Looks like she has quite a bit of waiting to do, because there's no way in hell she'll be able to sleep tonight, knowing Santana and Sam are at there.

She wipes her eyes and heads over to the freezer. Looks like ice cream and a sad movie are on the agenda for tonight.

* * *

><p><strong>There will be lots more Puck in the next chapter and the plot will thicken just a bit ;)<br>Reviews make my day! (:**


End file.
